


Alone Time

by gabewritesnsfw (gabewrites)



Category: no - Fandom
Genre: Hotel Sex, M/M, hm, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabewrites/pseuds/gabewritesnsfw
Summary: Being alone is a rarity on tour, so when the chance is given, action should be taken quickly.





	Alone Time

**Author's Note:**

> Guys im. S orr. Y

The tour bus wasn’t a bad place to live in, it was manageable and they had made sure it was comfortable to live out of for the months they needed it to tour, but occasionally they did get a hotel when there was a large gap in between shows and they didn’t have to be on the road. Did they need to? Not at all. But was it an appreciated gesture? Very much so. 

It was no surprise that Sung and Dylan had called a room together, but no one protested or tried to room with them. The extra money was worth avoiding their tension. (Or their “sneaky” messing around in the bathroom.) The band liked to tease them, but it was understandable with the amount of adrenaline a tour brought out and the presence of tension they had to carry, that they would find a way to get touchy when they got a chance. And Dylan of all people would find a way. 

In fact, T/W/R/P was considering a firm letter to Dylan requesting their money back for the amount of ruined body suits he had caused Sung to toss. Because they were all aware that it was Dylan’s fault. Usually.

They weren’t completely uncontrolled, they got to their room and made sure to unpack some clothes to use for the next few days, and Sung set his helmet carefully in the corner along with the rest of his stage outfit. Dylan had snagged a shower earlier in the day, but Sung hopped in shortly after he had settled in. A quick shower with some routine maintenance.  

When he finished his shower he felt a little drowsy, ready to sleep even after the preparation he’d just gone through. At least he would be clean for Dylan tomorrow.

He had already slipped on comfy pants and a shirt, originally anticipating sleep. What he didn’t account for, however, was that he would be looking at Dylan. And that they would be alone. 

So, when Dylan was getting ready to set his bags on the floor, Sung came up behind him with a smile, already having dropped his pants across the room. He hung off of Dylan’s shoulder and toyed with the hem of his shirt a little, one hand resting on Dylan’s chest and sliding down. Dylan silently looked over at Sung, trying to hide a smile. “Well, hello.” Dylan continued to set his things on the floor, flattening out the bed sheet with his hand. What a shame that they would just ruin it again.

“I think we have an arrangement?” Sung grinned, squeezing himself between Dylan and the bed. He tugged the man closer by the belt of his pants. Dylan laughed softly as their lips came together, much gentler than anyone would have expected. It never really occurred to them that they didn’t kiss on the tour bus, but the warm feeling in Sung’s gut was enough to make him wish they did more. Sung’s hands held Dylan’s face close, and Dylan’s hands ghosted cautiously over Sung’s hips, making just the right kind of chill run down his spine. 

They both looked a bit dazed when they pulled away, intoxicated by the taste of each other. “An arrangement?” Sung only laughed a little harder, humming at the sound of Dylan’s belt unbuckling after he had messed with it for a moment. “Fancy.” Dylan pushed Sung back onto the bed, climbing on top of him while sliding his hands under the loose shirt in the way of Sung’s body. Sung pulled him back down to his mouth by the tie he hadn’t yet discarded, trying to roll his hips up against Dylan’s. 

Dylan was used to being the one instigating, and Sung usually encouraged him being a tease. Things felt great when they were drawn out, but Sung was exceptionally eager tonight. Sung could smell Dylan’s cologne when he pulled the man on top of him, lips pressing together again. He also swore he could hear Dylan’s heartbeat accelerate, and his core flared. He wanted Dylan to touch it. Dylan yanked down his own pants and kicked them off, chuckling against Sung’s lips when he started untying the tie for him. 

Dylan’s lips were softer than Sung usually imagined, and- was that chapstick? He tasted faintly like strawberries. What a dork. Sung caught Dylan’s bottom lip between his teeth, throwing the tie onto the floor and whining when Dylan’s hands focused on unbuttoning his shirt rather than touching Sung. He did, however, fit himself in between Sung’s legs when he sat up. “How many days are we in this hotel?” Sung toyed with the waistband of the boxers he had on, even running one hand over the bulge in his boxers and letting out an impatient noise he hadn’t meant to.

Dylan let his shirt fall to the floor and was back on Sung in no time, a laugh mixed with a groan leaving his mouth when Sung’s hands fixated on his chest. “Four days, maybe, before we have to get on the road.” Sung’s antennae shot to the sides and sparked when Dylan rolled their hips together, and he had to collect to himself before he could respond. 

Even while feeling overwhelmed he still had a smile on his face, biting his lip when his shirt was shoved up. Instead of just leaving it on, Sung sat up and took it off, breathing heavy at how close him and Dylan were, how all he wanted was to somehow get closer. He let his hands trail down Dylan’s back while looking up at the man, grin on his face. “Then don’t go easy on me.”

Dylan choked up a little hearing that, trying to hide his surprise in his eyes as he laid Sung back down on the bed, moving him back so that his head rested comfortably on the pillow. Sung could wipe the smile off of his face. Especially when Dylan started kissing down his chest and teasing right above the waistband of his boxers. He started to pull them down but stopped midway, even pushed them back up a little. Sung could have sworn his antennae were buzzing with electricity. But he wanted it faster. 

Sung arched his back slightly to push himself closer, and Dylan remembered how much of that he was seeing on stage. Sometimes Sung was so easy to read. “Slow down, gorgeous, we’ll get there.” Sung seemed extremely unamused with that response, reaching down to pull his own boxers off. Dylan couldn’t deny how hot it was watch Sung’s mouth hang open in relief, his eye closed when his entire body was finally exposed to the room. He wanted it bad, and Dylan loved when he was in a mood like this. 

The hotels they stayed in most likely did not like it.

Sung tried to reach for Dylan’s last layer of clothing, but his hand was swatted away. Instead, Dylan continued his trail downward, his mouth just above Sung’s waist when he felt hands in his hair. So he moved back up. “Hands to yourself, or I’ll just draw it out longer.” Sung didn’t want to listen. He wanted flip Dylan over and ride his face until he couldn’t anymore. But he knew Dylan wouldn’t hesitate to take things so slow that he’d go insane. So he reluctantly took his hands away and gripped his own hair to have something to hang onto. His eye fluttered shut again when Dylan got lower. 

In Sung’s opinion it was still tortuously slow, but Dylan’s hand finally brushing over him, with how hard he was, was enough to knock the breath out of his chest. Dylan’s mouth on him was another thing, making him grip his own hair almost painfully. He could never get used to how overwhelming the feeling was, how amazing the heat of Dylan’s mouth felt sliding over him. How slick and smooth every motion was. And it left him breathless.

Dylan was criminally good at this, at least in Sung’s opinion. (Then again, Sung wasn’t hard to overwhelm.) Even though he said he wouldn’t tease, he only had about half of Sung in his mouth before he stopped. Sung was about to protest when Dylan’s tongue shut him up. The thing that drove Sung crazy was how effortless Dylan made it look, that and how he licked his lips when his mouth popped off and he replaced it with his hand. Like he was hungry for something. 

Sung wanted to complain, give some snarky comment, but Dylan’s hand was working up and down his cock fast enough to steal all the words from his mouth. Dylan leaned forward again and kissed the side of Sung’s neck, whispering in his ear. “Are you gonna tell me what to do?” Dylan didn’t often offer that up, usually knowing that Sung wanted to listen to him, but to put it lightly, Sung was in a bitchy mood, and Dylan wanted to indulge it.

He felt his legs shaking when Dylan stopped touching him, but the excitement in his eyes was something Dylan couldn’t deny. He sat up and looked straight at Dylan, proudly flaunting his flushed and eager body. He pulled Dylan’s boxers down with a look of hunger in his eye, mouth watering as he drug his finger along the bottom of Dylan’s cock. He wanted that inside of him. Dylan had a song about that. “We haven’t gotten alone time like this for weeks.” Sung was pressing himself against Dylan like he was his life source. “And I want to have a rough time at the next concert.” 

Dylan felt heat rush through his body, and the overwhelming urge to hear Sung calling his name was enough of a motivator to get going. He could finally hear those noises again, draw them out nice and desperate…and in no time Dylan flipped Sung over to his stomach and listened to the air that was jolted out of his lungs when he hit the mattress. He still had a smile on his face. “You’re sure?” Dylan ran his hands up Sung’s sides, then down his stomach when he lifted himself up. “You can’t get us kicked out of the hotel.” 

Sung laughed, but he was it was breathy and desperate. Dylan’s hand rested against Sung’s chest, a haze laying over his senses until Dylan moved it. “Yeah,- please?” Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off of the way that Sung already had his back arched, legs spread and waiting. He usually had more shame than this. “Could-…” Sung’s antennae drooped down for a moment, as if trying to hide his face. “Could you use your mouth first?” There it was.

Dylan just chuckled, having a firm grip on Sung’s ass. “You still can’t get that one out, huh?” Both of Dylan’s hands were focused strictly on Sung’s ass now, and Sung couldn’t help but let out a pleasant hum lf approval. “You’d think after a few times you would recognize that I like eating your ass.” Dylan gave no time for response before he gave Sung a playful smack, watching his ass jiggle from it. Dylan couldn’t help it, not when Sung had that much ass to smack around.

Of course Sung let out a little sound of surprise, but it was when Sung remembered that Dylan eats ass with an enthusiasm exclusive to Dylan, that he moaned into the pillow in front of himself. It still felt shameful, like something he shouldn’t enjoy, but Dylan’s tongue followed a trail all the way from perineum to lower back, and Sung could have melted. Dylan’s arms found their way under Sung’s thighs to hold him up and keep him still, but his legs still felt shaky.

Every whine and whimper that Sung let out only served as more encouragement. And it wasn’t his fault that it felt so good that he pushed back against Dylan, whining for more. He quickly found himself out of breath, but he didn’t need to waste all of his energy on this. “Dylan…” Sung managed to get his name out. Dylan stopped and ran a hand down Sungs back instead. “You know what I want.” Sung felt an insatiable desire creeping into him, driving him crazy.

Dylan wiped his face off on Sung’s discarded shirt, reminding himself they’d need to visit a laundromat. “Oh I do, baby.” The click of a bottle of lube opening confirmed that statement. Dylan knew. “And I heard you in the shower- good call, it’ll make things easier.” Sung felt his face flush knowing that Dylan had heard him. He thought he had been quiet. But the effortless slide of two of Dylan’s fingers inside of him caused a long, drawn out groan. He wanted to push back, try to trick Dylan into going faster, but his brain seemed to have experienced a short circuit as he made muffled noise into the pillow. 

Dylan was considerably distracted by how open and pliant Sung was around his fingers, mouth hanging open when a third finger made Sung’s breathing hitch and pushed out a pathetic excuse for a whine. Nothing felt like enough, not even when all three fingers found the right place to hit to make Sung’s voice crack and his chest heave in a sharp breath. He could hear Dylan getting himself ready, ripping open a condom wrapper, touching himself while biting his lip, and it only added to the desperate heat pooling in Sung’s gut while he waited. 

“Ready?” Dylan’s voice was rougher, changed with a tone of arousal, and it made Sung’s breath waver. His body ached for it. 

“Please.” 

Dylan got an evil look in his eyes before grabbing Sung by the hips and lining himself up, slamming himself in with an amount of force only appropriate for when Sung was already this strung out. The cry he let out could have been enough to alarm someone outside the door, but it was followed by a deep moan of pleasure. Sung felt his head spinning while full of Dylan and clutching a pillow close to his chest. And for a moment he felt content. He thought he could have stayed it that exact positions for hour completely satisfied. 

Then a jolt of pleasure ran through him with the force of a freight train, and Dylan was glad Sung had that pillow in front of his mouth to catch the moans. “Dylan- move.” Sung was firm and his voice sounded like it might break. Dylan carefully and slowly moved out, but Sung, whether overcome with pleasure or frustration, slammed himself back onto Dylan’s cock with a relieved groan. “I said, move!” 

Dylan felt the intensity hit him in that one, and he couldn’t argue while he got better leverage and thrust back in with twice the energy. Sung wasn’t completely satisfied yet, he felt like his body was on fire with need, but Dylan loved watching him. Loved watching him cling to the pillow in front of him tighter, hearing his moans change to whimpers or drop to groans depending on the feeling, watching his back arch as if asking for more. He could easily lose himself in that. 

Sung, on the other hand, could only focus on the way Dylan seemed to fill him to the brim. Just the right stretch and the perfect pressure, as if Dylan was made to pound Sung into this subpar hotel mattress until he had trouble walking the next day. And Sung wanted that. He wished he could feel it for weeks. His face was nearly buried in the pillow in front of him now, his legs falling further open as he lost himself in the feeling. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Gods- Dylan… faster!” His eye stayed clenched shut as he struggled to keep pushing back against Dylan in rhythm, trying to get Dylan to really give it to him. His antennae weren’t staying still, they were twitching slightly and sparking gently, falling in two different directions. 

“Ah- oh…harder!” Sung’s nails dug into his pillow, one of Dylan’s hands moving to the small of his back to hold him in place. The only thing keeping Dylan going was Sung’s enthusiasm, his repeated mantras of Dylan’s name and noises he wouldn’t remember. “Ah- uhn…Dylan, don’t stop.” The sweat dripping down his back only made him go harder, his own pleasure intensifying when Sung started to let go and let himself get drilled into the mattress. 

“Shit-“ Dylan breathed out without a large amount of effort, his main focus satisfying Sung. He noticed that Sung had tried to touch himself but given up and stayed clinging to his pillow again, whining for Dylan to help him. He was far gone now. His own body was dripping sweat along with Dylan, and all he could think was “deeper,” “more,” “harder,” and he wasn’t sure which words were thought and which words were spilling from his mouth.

“Fuck- Dylan…touch me- please, touch me.” Sung let out a series of embarrassing whines when Dylan’s hand changed places, sure that he was drooling all over the pillow that they needed to sleep on. “Dylan…Dylan, Dylan!” Sung couldn’t shut himself up while Dylan kept hitting the right spot every time, clouding over any rational thought in his brain. Dylan. Dylan. Dylan. That’s what he could remember. He was quite sure he had screamed when Dylan’s other hand touched his chest, shaking him to his core and rendering him breathless. He begged until the last moment, groaning out as he ruined the sheets that, no doubt, had just been changed. 

Dylan wasn’t sure how much the pillow really helped in muffling that sound. 

Even after finishing, Sung still whined thankfully when Dylan kept moving, just as far out of breath when he fell over the edge, all of his tired work suddenly feeling like it was worth everything. Sung unceremoniously let his bottom half drop to the bed when Dylan slid himself out, fully spent and feeling the pleasant ache that Dylan had already left him with. He was sated and trying to catch his breath, his own mess and sweat filled sheets the only thing he would move for. (And he didn’t even want to move for that.)

“Jesus Christ, Sung.” Dylan sounded spent as well, flopping down on the bed next to Sung. “What got into you.”

“Just… wanted you.” Dylan smiled and Sung realized he was still gripping the pillow and let go, instead resting calmly on it. He could have passed out right then and there if he didn’t want to stay awake for Dylan. He made a slim effort to lift himself, but gave up promptly. “Clean me up?” 

Dylan sighed, trying to feign surprise and irritation, even though taking care of Sung was one of his favorite parts of this process. A light laugh ratted him out. Dylan got up with tired legs to walk to the bathroom. “Such a little pillow princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah bitch, just be glad it wasnt piss


End file.
